something entirely new
People talk about love and relationships as though you fall in one and get comfortable; as though it grows over time; as though it starts small and you cultivate it; like a well-sown seed, or a symphony starting from a single note, and all those other lovely metaphors. But I have little knowledge of this. My experience of relationships (and I mean the ones involving love, not all those other series of interactions) is a single active choice; everyday you have to answer with the same refrain and accept what it means in the present tense. I will be with you. Today that means one thing, and tomorrow it will mean something else. I will be with you. Love was a ton of bricks through the roof that crushed me as I slept. I tried to work around it, ignore it, but eventually you have to accept what has happened and try to build anew. Either way there will always be a hole where the roof once was. It is a lot like grief that way, a parallel I hear nobody make, though it’s true.